Susan
by NancyMay
Summary: Born of a short conversation with Hikerlady. In which Susan becomes ill and needs Dr Blake. Although long it is a one shot story. Hope you enjoy it, it's a little different to the stories I usually write because Jean and Lucien are not the main characters in the story.


**More of a Tyneman story than a Jean and Lucien story. But our hero and heroine feature fairly heavily in it.**

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She'd heard the whispers as she shopped for a birthday gift for Edward. That's how she always heard Patrick was philandering, again! It was humiliating that she was always the last to know. It made her angry and disappointed, but today it made her feel physically sick. She'd felt under the weather for a couple of days, a niggling pain in her right side and today, after Patrick had flopped onto her last night after his version of lovemaking, it hurt even more. She supposed she would have to see the doctor.

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Patrick stormed out of Dr King's surgery. How dare he suggest Patrick had gout! The very idea, and to lecture him on his diet and weight, the absolute nerve of the man! He'd gone to him with a sore big toe, a grinding ache and some swelling, gout indeed!

'My family will find an alternative GP. We will not take your insults!' Patrick forgot that the only other GP in Ballarat was Dr Lucien Blake, his nemesis.

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Susan allowed herself a small, secret, but wry smile as Patrick blustered and cursed about Dr King. She agreed with him, it was more than likely gout. Patrick liked rich food and a good port afterwards, and he was overweight and unfit. When he complained that Dr Blake did not suffer such a problem Susan pointed out that Lucien was fitter and leaner. In spite of feeling even worse than earlier in the day, she was considerably cheered at the thought that her husband was unlikely to visit her bed that night.

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Patrick had already left for the Courier offices when Susan woke the next morning. She tried to turn on to her side and let out a scream that brought their housekeeper running. The pain was so bad she couldn't move, waves of nausea flooded her entire being and she was just able to turn her head to vomit onto the side of the bed. She felt so ill she didn't care, and that was not like Susan, at all!

The housekeeper took one look at her mistress and fled downstairs to call the doctor. Dr King politely informed her that the Tyneman family were not on his list, and refused to budge for Susan after Patrick's abuse the previous day. The housekeeper thought for a brief moment, her good friend was housekeeper to the only other doctor, Dr Blake and she immediately put in a call.

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'Dr Blake's surgery.' Jean's bright voice put everyone at their ease when they called to make an appointment or book a house call.

'Jean, it's Bridget, Mrs Tyneman is very ill and Dr King won't come out. Can Dr Blake call, please?' Bridget sounded terrified.

'I'm sure he can.' Jean answered, gently, 'what are her symptoms?'

'Pain, fever, sickness. Jean, please ask him to hurry.' Bridget urged.

'Ok you go and sit with her, Lucien will be along as soon as he can be.' Much as Jean found Susan a little over proud she would not see anyone suffer. She had no idea why Dr King wouldn't go out, but that was by the by, Lucien would deal with Susan.

'Lucien!' She called as she headed to the study, 'can you go out to the Tyneman's. Susan's sick, and Dr King refuses to attend. I expect Patrick's insulted him, again.'

Lucien poked his head out of the study, 'Symptoms?' He grabbed his bag.

'Pain, fever, sickness, was all I could get out of Bridget, she sounded extremely worried.' Jean dropped his hat on his head as he put his coat on.

'Right-ho! I'll let you know what's afoot.' He kissed her cheek and shot off out of the front door.

Jean smiled as he left. She loved the way he kissed her in a hurry as he left. A completely natural act that made her feel warm and loved. Which she was.

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Lucien managed not to break any motoring laws as he sped over to the Tyneman's house. He pulled up outside the front door and knocked, but given the urgency in Jean's voice he just pushed the door open and strode inside.

'Hello!' He almost yelled up the stairs, 'it's Dr Blake!'

'Up here!' Bridget called from outside Susan's room, 'please come quick, doctor!'

Lucien leapt up the stairs two at a time, Bridget's distress was palpable.

As Lucien arrived at the room door he could just see Susan lying on the bed. She had pushed the blankets off her stomach, the weight was too much for her to bear; moving swiftly over to her he saw her hair was stuck to her damp forehead and her eyes were wide with fear and pain.

'Show me where the pain is, Susan.' Lucien's voice was soft and gentle.

Susan pointed to her navel under her nightdress and moved her hand across her belly. Lucien had no need to touch her he knew at once she had acute appendicitis, and they would be lucky if it hadn't burst!

'Call the ambos. Tell them it's urgent. Acute appendicitis. Then call the hospital and tell them Mrs Tyneman is coming in with Dr Blake and to prepare a theatre for an emergency appendectomy.' Lucien instructed Bridget then turned to his patient.

'How long have you been in pain, Susan?' Again his voice was soft and low.

'It started a few days ago, then got gradually worse. Yesterday was bad after Patrick had...' at the thought she felt sick again, but was too embarrassed to tell Lucien what Patrick had done the night before, but Lucien could well imagine, and that Patrick had been less than attentive. 'I...' Tears started to fall, tears of pain and tears of embarrassment.

Lucien squeezed her hand sympathetically as he heard the ambos arrive. To preserve Susan's dignity he pulled the sheet over her, the weight of which she could just about bear.

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As Susan was wheeled at speed into the theatre suite she turned to Lucien and grabbed his hand with what little strength she had left.

'Lucien, you do it, please.' She begged. She knew Lucien, she knew his reputation as a surgeon and, in spite of Patrick's animosity, she trusted him.

There was no time to argue so as she was wheeled into the operating theatre Lucien went to scrub up.

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Patrick burst into the hospital room where Susan lay. The operation had gone well, the appendix caught just before it burst. She was sleeping off the anaesthetic, while Lucien sat in the chair by her bed. It was his custom to wait until his surgical patients were conscious before he left them to the ministrations of the excellent nursing staff. Susan stirred at the intrusion. Seeing her blustering husband she turned to Dr Blake,

'Tell him to go away, please.'

'Mr Tyneman,' Lucien addressed him formally, 'your wife needs rest and quiet. I suggest you wait until visiting hours tomorrow.'

'Who the hell are you to tell me what to do?' Patrick was incandescent that Blake should order him about.

'At this moment I am your wife's surgeon, and that is who the hell I am. Now keep your voice down.' Lucien squared up to the man and Patrick backed down. He looked at his wife, who was apparently sleeping and left the room.

Lucien returned to the side of the bed and checked Susan's temperature with the back of his hand. She smiled slightly in her sleep.

Lucien thought what a fool Patrick was. Susan did not deserve to be treated like a chattel, her feelings walked over. Her proud manner was a product of being married to that oaf. He'd known her slightly when they were a lot younger, she had been pretty but shy, they had not been close. Later when he had left for Edinburgh to start his medical training he'd heard she'd married Patrick Tyneman, two wealthy families joined. Not that he'd been interested, she would, at most, have been a diversion for the younger Blake.

A gentle knock on the door brought him back to the here and now. The door opened and Jean poked her head in.

'Jean,' Lucien got up to greet her with a peck on the cheek, 'come in.'

Blushing a little Jean entered the room carrying a basket of food for the good doctor. He'd missed lunch and she wasn't sure if he would be back for dinner so she had packed some sandwiches, biscuits and fruit to keep him going.

'How is she?'

'Better. Acute appendicitis, just caught it before it burst.' Lucien took a bite of a sandwich, not realising just how hungry he was.

'Has Patrick been?' Jean thought he should be here sitting with his wife, but he was probably out with his latest fling.

'Um, yes,' mumbled Blake though a mouthful of ham, cheese and mustard sandwich, he swallowed, 'earlier. Susan asked me to tell him to go away.'

'Bet he appreciated that!' Jean smiled.

'Not much,' admitted Lucien, 'asked me who the hell I was to give him orders.'

'I apologise for my husband's rudeness, doctor.' A quiet voice from the bed drifted over.

'It's not your place to apologise for him, Susan.' Lucien smiled, 'You need your rest. By the way, why are you not registered with Dr King anymore?'

'Oh Patrick didn't like being told he had gout, was overweight and ate too much of the wrong foods.' Susan answered, the wry smile making its appearance again. 'He wanted to know why you don't suffer from gout.'

'How does he know I don't?' Grinned the good doctor.

Susan ignored that, 'I told him you were leaner and fitter than him. I can't see him chasing criminals around Ballarat without having a heart attack.'

'Two steps he'd be out of breath!' Laughed Lucien.

Susan grinned, 'Can I have some water, please? My mouth's so very dry.'

'Just a little,' Lucien poured some cold water into the glass on the cabinet beside the bed and helped her lift her head to take a sip.

She sighed and lay back down, feeling suddenly tired.

'Right, back to sleep. I'll see you in the morning.' Lucien patted her hand.

'Thank you Dr Blake.' Susan whispered as she closed her eyes.

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Jean kicked off her shoes and curled her feet underneath her on the couch after dinner. She leaned against Lucien and looked up at his face. He was staring into the distance, apparently somewhere faraway. Her movement caught his attention and he wrapped his arm round her. It was one of those evenings when Charlie was on a late shift so they had the place to themselves.

'Will Susan be alright?' She asked.

'Oh yes, a week in hospital, and rest at home afterwards, she should be fine.' Lucien assured her.

'Why did she not call a doctor sooner?' Jean was puzzled, she'd had appendicitis years ago and knew how painful it was.

'I don't think it was too painful at the start, until she and Patrick...' He felt Jean shudder. She blushed that she'd had the image of Patrick and Susan being intimate. Lucien grinned at her slight embarrassment that she could imagine Patrick and Susan in the throes of passion! Although from Susan's request that Patrick should be told to 'go away', he doubted that passion came into it.

Jean knew her imagination had been heightened since she and Lucien had started to ignore the gossips and do what they had been suspected of doing all along. He had introduced her to a whole new world of intimacy, of lovemaking with tenderness, respect and a need for both to enjoy the experience, and she wished they had given in to temptation long before they did. She couldn't imagine Patrick being that sensitive.

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Lucien knocked on the room door and was invited in by a brighter voice than yesterday. Susan was still lying down almost flat, still pale but no longer the ashen colour she had been.

'Good morning, Mrs Tyneman,' Lucien smiled. 'How are you feeling this morning?' He took her pulse and put his hand to her forehead.

'So much better than yesterday, thank you. And it's 'Susan'.' She smiled back. 'After what you did for me that's the least I can offer. The nurses tell me you saved my life.'

'You were perilously close to having a burst appendix, Susan, and that can be fatal.' Lucien looked serious. 'Even though Dr King has taken you off his list you could have called me before it got so bad. You are welcome to come on my list, if you want to.'

'Touting for business, Blake!' Patrick's bluff, sharp tone cut the air.

'Shut up, Patrick!' Susan snapped, she'd had enough of this bully pushing her around, endangering her life. 'If I want Lucien to be my GP that's my choice. He saved my life. Just because you are so pig-headed and won't listen to your doctor I don't see why I should be left without medical cover.'

Patrick opened and closed his mouth like a goldfish in a bowl. Susan had never crossed him before, Blake must have put her up to it.

'King is a fool,' he started to try to give his opinion of the doctor who had, in his eyes, insulted him.

'Dr King is a good doctor, very competent.' Lucien volunteered, it was a fact, he respected the other doctor in Ballarat and was quite often ready to discuss new medical advances with him. 'I believe he has diagnosed you with gout.' He added mildly.

'Doesn't know what he's talking about,' Patrick grumbled.

'Sore small joint, swelling, pain like toothache?' Lucien raised his eyebrows.

Patrick turned on his heel and left the room.

'Well, Susan, after that I suggest you have a rest.' Lucien smiled at her. 'You can start to eat as soon as you want to, but small amounts to start with.'

'Thank you, I could do with something, something light.' She held out her hand to Lucien and he took it and shook it gently.

'I'll speak to Sister and see you again tomorrow.' He gave an old-fashioned bow and left the room.

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Susan continued to make good progress while Patrick's toe became more painful. He thought about consulting that 'holier than thou' Blake but in the end decided he'd see a specialist in Melbourne.

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Patrick returned from Melbourne as Susan was discharged from hospital. He collected her but was in such a sour mood they did not speak at all. Susan had been told to take things easy so as soon as she got home she went to the drawing room and relaxed on the couch. Bridget welcomed her home and brought her a tray of tea and biscuits and a blanket for her knees.

'Bridget,' she stopped the housekeeper as she went to leave the room, 'I would like to thank you for your quick thinking when I was taken ill last week. If you hadn't thought of Dr Blake I may not be here now.'

'Madam...,' Bridget started to say it was nothing, she just happened to be friends with Dr Blake's housekeeper.

'Stop.' Susan held up her hand, 'you never take sides, keep your own council, are unfailingly polite and are always there when I need you. I would like to raise your wages to twelve pounds a week, and, I know there is a scarf in my room, the blue and white one you like. I never wear it, I'd like you to have it.'

Bridget gasped. She'd be the best paid housekeeper in Ballarat, not counting Jean who she was sure was paid more, but then she was receptionist and secretary too, and a gift of a scarf. Ok, it was 'second hand' but in truth she had never seen Mrs Tyneman wear it and she was embarrassed to realise she had coveted it.

'Thank you, madam, it's really not necessary.' She said, 'Like hell it wasn't.' Was the thought that entered her head at the same time.

Susan smiled. It was necessary. Bridget and she got on reasonably well, she had no complaints about Bridget's work and she was pleasant to have around. She also made Susan aware if Patrick was on the warpath before he came home. The housekeeper network was truly valuable and well worth cultivating.

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Patrick would still not accept he had gout and his temper was short. To cap it all his latest fling had decided his temper was not worth putting up with and had told him to leave her alone. Susan ignored him; her friends; well acquaintances really; she couldn't really call them friends, not close ones anyway; called to spend an hour or so with her while she recuperated. They would chat pleasantly over tea, then they would leave and she would be alone again. Edward popped his head round the door when he returned from the offices but they had little in common, he was too much like his father. She found herself asking Bridget to sit with her and tell her what was going on in town. Bridget never overstepped the mark, but quite enjoyed the growing closeness between her and her employer.

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'Jean,' Lucien sipped his tea during a break in surgery. 'I think Susan Tyneman should have a check up. Her stitches have been removed but I should check the wound. Do you think you could make an appointment for her?'

Perched on the edge of the desk, Jean smiled her assent. It was normal practice for him, ever caring about his patients, whoever they were.

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'Dr Blake wants to see you, madam.' Bridget entered the lounge where Susan was reading. 'He wants to check your operation wound. Is any time inconvenient.'

'Anytime will suit, Bridget, thank you. Will you drive me? You can sit and have a cup of tea with Mrs Beazley while I am there.'

'Very well, madam.' Bridget was aware Patrick was in the hallway, having just arrived home for lunch. Her formality indicated as much to Susan.

'Patrick? Is that you, sneaking in?' Susan had become bolder since her stay in hospital, something Patrick blamed on Blake, but then he blamed all his ills on Lucien, in spite of his attention to Edward's position when he was put in the cells, suspected of murder.

Patrick limped into the lounge, 'What does Blake want?'

'Just a final check up.' Susan answered brightly. While Dr King had been attentive he had also been less likely to do a final check up unless requested by the patient.

'More bills.' Patrick grunted.

'Don't be selfish, the bill will be a lot higher if I don't heal properly.'

Bridget caught the conversation, smiling as she heard Susan finally stand up for herself. Patrick had not bought Susan any jewellery since he had fallen out with his latest squeeze, he usually did as a way of keeping Susan's mouth shut; not realising it wasn't her mouth that needed shutting. Why should she advertise her humiliation? Marriage to her had brought money into the business, but he usually forgot a legacy had been settled on her that was her own and could not be touched by him. While she was using his money to pay Lucien she was well aware she could pay her medical bills herself, she just didn't bother to remind him.

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Jean opened the door to Mrs Tyneman and Bridget and smiled.

'Come in, Dr Blake is expecting you.' She stood aside.

As Susan stepped over the threshold she suppressed a smile. The inside was warm and homely, smelling of wood polish and something delicious coming from the kitchen. She'd heard Jean was an excellent cook and it certainly smelt like it. She allowed the suppressed smile to become a real one.

'I'll show you through to the waiting room, Mrs Tyneman.' Jean was most courteous. 'Is it alright if Bridget sits in the kitchen with me and has a cuppa?'

'Of course, I'm sure you'd like that, wouldn't you Bridget?' Susan agreed.

Bridget grinned, it was what they had planned anyway. Susan had a feeling that the atmosphere in her house would be a topic of conversation, although, as Jean was herself the subject of some vicious gossip she knew it would get no further.

Over tea Bridget told Jean how mean Patrick was being to Susan, and how she was at last standing up for herself. She was fairly sure they would not part or even divorce, but having found her voice Susan was not prepared to take his bullying anymore. They now had separate rooms instead of just separate beds. Susan ignored his blustering. He continued to request the rich foods he liked while Susan ate more lightly and healthily. Bridget said she's had to take some of her clothes to a dressmaker to be altered as she had lost a little weight, and it suited her.

Jean said she had noticed Susan was a little slimmer, and had a smile in her eyes. Perhaps she'd be happier, living a separate life to Patrick. Lucien, she said, had told her his lifestyle and diet would be the end of him.

'What about the doctor's drinking, Jean? Everyone knows he likes his whisky.' Bridget felt she was close enough to Jean to enquire about this fact.

'Oh, he drinks far less than he used to; unless it's a particularly difficult case. He has other distractions now.' Jean's smile was small but decidedly wicked.

Bridget left it at that. It was a confidence she would not betray. Jean was a good friend to her, had been for years, she could not break that bond. She'd always been the one that leapt to her defence when gossip about them sleeping together reared its ugly head. That was Jean's business, nobody else's. Besides, she was no angel!

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'Your wound had healed nicely, Susan.' Lucien said as he helped her down from the examination couch, 'there will be no need to for me to see it again.'

'Thank you, Dr Blake,' Susan smiled at him, 'Jean was a lucky lady' she thought. 'Can I be placed on your list from now on, please?'

'Of course, I'd be delighted to add you.' Lucien stood and shook her hand. 'How does Patrick feel about it?' He had to ask.

'It's nothing to do with him.' Susan was sharp, 'Sorry, doctor. I have been well treated by you, I will make my own decision about my medical care, and I would prefer it if I could call on you when I need to.'

'I believe I can hear our respective housekeepers in the kitchen. Shall we join them. There's bound to be a cup left in the pot.' He showed her through to where Jean and Bridget were sitting at the table. Whereas Bridget would never serve her mistress and a guest in the kitchen, Jean frequently did. She'd had a politician (Mattie's father) at her table. Susan Tyneman was not that important.

'Any tea left, Jean?' Lucien asked breezily.

'Just topped it up,' she replied with a grin, 'Sit down, Mrs Tyneman.' She got up to get two more cups. Susan began to like the easy familiarity with these people. Because Patrick was antagonistic towards Dr Blake, was openly hostile she had never really got to know him. He was pleasant, obviously intelligent, had a friendly manner. She knew she could never invite him to one of their dinners for prominent people in Ballarat, which was a shame, conversations would be interesting!

They sat drinking tea and passing the hour in easy chatter, nothing of import, just gossip of the nicest kind. Susan was almost sad they had to leave, but as Bridget reminded her they were entertaining Mr Nicholson that evening. No doubt Patrick would be trying to get Blake out of the hospital board.

'Thank you for your kindness, Dr Blake, and thank you for the tea, Mrs Beazley.' Susan took her leave and Bridget drove her home.

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'There's a side to Susan we don't know, isn't there?' Jean said at dinner that evening.

'Yes, I think she has fed off Patrick all these years, his bloody-mindedness and bigotry, she has followed in his wake as he would expect her to. He doesn't want a wife with a mind if her own, but, unfortunately for him, I think he's got one!' Lucien remarked.

'So, what's going on with the Tynemans?' Charlie asked. He'd done a lot of late shifts recently and hadn't caught up with things. He knew Lucien had operated on Susan but that was all.

'Patrick offended Dr King and Susan's now on my list.' Blake informed him, between mouthfuls of roast lamb and potatoes. 'She was here today for a final check-up and had tea with us and her housekeeper, er...'

'Bridget,' Jean supplied.

'Yes, Bridget.' Lucien finished his sentence. 'Do you know Bridget well, Jean?'

'She's probably the one I can talk to without fear of a confidence being broken.' Jean admitted, 'most of the others are always asking about you and your habits. You know: what you like to eat, how you take your tea, what you did in the war. Questions I choose not to answer.' Jean got up and started to clear her plate away, the subject was closed.

Lucien looked at Charlie and raised his eyebrows. They both knew why she had ended the conversation, gossip in Ballarat grew from these questions that she chose not to answer, other questions were probably implied, such as; 'Does he snore?' Charlie had walked past Jean in town one day and had heard one woman ask Jean that very question, to which she had replied very stiffly, 'I have no idea!' and marched off smartly.

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The dinner with Nicholson was exhausting for Susan. The two men were concerned with ousting Blake from any connection to the hospital and Susan's blood was beginning to boil. What were they going to do for another surgeon?

'Oh for goodness sake!' She stood up at her end of the table. 'You sound like a couple of children who don't want to play with someone else because he changed the rules. Grow up the pair of you! Lucien Blake is a fine surgeon and an excellent GP! I for one, will continue to avail myself of his services as a GP and as a surgeon should the need arise!' She stormed out of the room, leaving both men with their mouths agape in sheer astonishment.

'You must excuse my wife, Geoffrey,' Patrick apologised, 'she hasn't been too well lately.'

'I heard that Patrick!' Susan came back into the room, 'I am perfectly well, thanks to Lucien Blake. You forget, he saved my life recently, for which I shall be forever grateful! Perhaps if you weren't so arrogant you would accept Dr King's initial diagnosis!'

Mr Nicholson looked at the two, then back at Patrick.

'Problem, Patrick?' Geoffrey asked. Before Patrick could open his mouth, Susan butted in.

'Dr King told him he has gout, and so did a specialist in Melbourne. They told him he is overweight and unfit.' Susan informed him. 'They also told him he eats too much rich food. However, Patrick knows better, as usual, so is ignoring all advice and carrying on as normal.' Susan tossed her head and, turning on her heel, decisively swept out of the room.

Nicholson eyed Patrick at the end of the table. 'Would you like me to take a look?' After the meal they had eaten he strongly suspected he would diagnose the exact same ailment. He had noticed that Susan had not eaten as much of the cream sauce on the chicken, and had only had fruit for dessert, instead of the rich meringue and cream alternative. He noticed her weight loss and that she looked very well on it. Patrick had eaten heartily, and drunk well. He was not drunk nor even tipsy, but he had indulged.

Patrick was by now well aware he was not going to get a different diagnosis, but it would be churlish to rebuff the consultant.

'Not tonight, Geoffrey, thank you.' Patrick muttered, not wanting Susan or the housekeeper to hear his refusal.

'Call by my consulting rooms tomorrow, I'll see you then.' Geoffrey entered a note in his pocket diary. 'Now, what are we going to do about Blake?'

'At the moment, with Susan having the ear of so many of the women of Ballarat who like him, perhaps we'd better do nothing.' Patrick had to concede defeat.

Upstairs in her room Susan wondered if she should let Dr Blake know what was going on. Perhaps it would be easier to ask Bridget to do it. But no, she was the one who had heard everything she should be the one to let him know they were out to get him. She'd ring in the morning.

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Surgery was well under way when the phone rang. Jean was in the waiting room and took the call at the desk.

'Dr Blake's surgery.' As usual her bright voice put Susan at ease. Even though she'd spent little time in Jean's company she already felt she could talk to the woman.

'Ah, Mrs Beazley, it's Susan Tyneman.' Susan spoke quietly, although Patrick was out, hopefully at Nicholson's consulting rooms, she didn't want to be overheard. 'I just wanted to warn Dr Blake that Geoffrey Nicholson dined with us last night and he and Patrick are plotting against him.'

'Oh, I see.' Jean knew Nicholson was not friendly towards Lucien, but he did treat him with professional courtesy, maybe it was all a front, a way to put Lucien off his guard.

'I told them they were acting like a pair of children and to grow up.' Susan told her and related the rest of the conversation.

'I'll let Lucien know to be on his guard. Geoffrey is usually professional towards Lucien even though they have had their difficulties in the past.' Jean replied. 'But I'm afraid he and Patrick are never going to see eye to eye.' She smiled at the thought of Susan passing on information not in Patrick's best interests.

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'What did happen between you and Patrick, Lucien?' Jean asked as they partook of their evening sherry and whisky.

'To be perfectly honest, I can't remember.' He scratched his head, 'I know he wasn't happy when I came back from Edinburgh for a break before I joined the army. But I don't know why. I've long since come to the conclusion it's a clash of personalities. Having said that, I was a bit full of myself when I came back when dad was dying, wasn't I?'

'You were a bit, but you'd been through so much so I suppose it wasn't surprising. You didn't pursue Susan then?' It wouldn't bother Jean if he had, it was all in the past.

'Not my type, too shy, I like a bit of spirit in my woman.' He grinned, a wicked twinkle in his eye.

'Indeed, doctor.' With mock seriousness. 'How much spirit?' She rose off the couch and made to walk away. Lucien grabbed her wrist and pulled her onto his lap, holding her firmly in an embrace she couldn't, and indeed didn't want to, escape.

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Nicholson's diagnosis was no different to Dr King's or the Melbourne specialist Patrick had seen.

'I don't know what your problem with the diagnosis is, Patrick. Gout is just a result of too much uric acid in the blood and crystals settling round the small joints. All you have to do is limit the amount of rich foods you eat and cut down the amount of alcohol you imbibe. I can give you pain killers and anti inflammatory drugs which should lessen the symptoms.' Geoffrey looked him in the eye. 'Perhaps you should look to your wife's diet. She seemed to eat less of the rich food on offer last night and is looking very well.'

Patrick was finally defeated. He had to admit, even just to himself, he had gout. He also had to keep Nicholson on his side, if he was ever to be rid of Blake.

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A sideways look at life in Ballarat. Reviews and comments welcome as always.


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